The Pink Panther on My Porch

The pitfalls and triumphs of moving out on your own

The students rocked my car back and forth as I tried to drive to my new home. Scared and alone, I reached my home unscathed by the partygoers. I chose to move to a college town. And I learned quickly that the partying never stopped.

The electricity had yet to be activated, and I sat on the floor with a sandwich in the middle of my furniture-less home, terrified of the future.

The largest obstacle of leaving the safety of your parent’s home is if you are going to make it. I had to make it. There was no back-up plan. My father began drinking again, causing my childhood home to be a mecca of despair. Bags of trash piled-up at our front door, the lights did not work, overgrown plants hid the doorway to our unlocked front door while our garage remained slightly open due to a failing garage door system.

I recognized I could not be burdened with my father’s issues and succeed. However, he asked me to take custody of my little brother and agreed to pay the mortgage on our townhouse if I stayed so he could move to his girlfriend’s house 10 hours away.

My decision to leave coincided with leaving my brother abandoned. The amount of guilt I felt for not taking him with me forever scarred my soul. I knew what I was leaving him behind to bear. And I left anyway.

New Life

Of course, I never realized all the items I was missing to live in a functional household. A quick run to K-mart ended up costing me $200. But towels, dish detergent, dish racks, trash cans, trash bags, and all of the other stuff required to make a house a home established the initial steps of being an adult.

However, something bigger crept into my mind’s eye. It became evident that my decision to leave was irreversible. This means I needed to do whatever it was necessary to survive. And that is a considerable amount of pressure for a seventeen-year-old.

I gravitated to listing all that I would not accept in my life anymore — no more passed out drunks unless it was me: no more dirty kitchens and dark rooms.

I left the eternal loneliness only to find that it followed me. That was a feeling I could not shake despite my aspirations of embarking on this new adventure.

So, I stuffed my feelings back into my heart and pretended to be okay.

The first line of business to finding some joy was inaugurating my porch with a human-size stuffed Pink Panther hanging bondage style. This pink creature could not go unnoticed, and I discovered it was a talking piece to meet new people.

I did not realize that when someone is friendly to you, that does not mean that person is your friend. They are a friend of convenience and so are you. With the naivety of a young girl, I trusted strangers as if they were close friends just to keep the loneliness at bay.

Strangers poured into my home with kegs of beer and an onslaught of booze regularly. I felt like the queen of my castle. But a queen is only as good as the company she keeps. Soon break-ins and stuff were missing that set my anxiety ablaze.

Like any young person, I wanted everything to happen yesterday. My patience wore thin. If I had been a patient person, meeting friends would occur at a slower pace, with levels of intimacy deepening as the relationship progressed. I did not know there was a pace. I was on the run.

While I worked seven days a week at a Mexican joint, my grades suffered. A notice of academic probation arrived in the mail delivering to me my current G.P.A. I paid no mind, life was a party, and I was the star.

I had missed the whole point of moving out on my own. What I needed to be focusing on my classes, my future, and building up savings in case trouble brewed. I did none of that.

And when the holiday season came around, the barren town was left to those of us who did not have families. During this time, I could not deny the pain of being in my own skin. No distractions could replace this fundamental truth. And I did not know how to rectify this matter.

Ambushed

Soon the students returned, and a convoy of people and I cruised the streets looking for action. I must have drunk a half-liter of Bacardi. I wobbled the streets only to be stopped by a police officer who had some choice words with me.

“ You are too drunk, and you need to stay home.” He said.

I countered his statement with, “You just want to have sex with me.” Where I came up with this rebuttal slips my mind.

He shook his head and walked me to my house.

Much to surprise, my “friends” and a whole bunch of other people had shattered the window of my front door. People were making out as they hung off the upstairs balcony. The local news station filmed my home, the pink panther and all, producing their broadcast called “Kids Gone Wild.” And my house was trashed.

I passed out while people were still in my house. And when I woke up to the horror of beer bottles, smashed cigarettes on the carpet, and my annihilated deposit, I peered out onto the porch only to find my prize possession was stolen.

In the middle of my blackout, my pink panther was kidnapped. The one possession in which I found pride was gone: only the ropes that bonded him to the wall were left.

I no longer felt safe.

Revelations

But this passing moment became pivotal to my development. I knew now I must protect what I loved, and that included myself. And the morning sun rose a little higher that morning, as I ripped apart my defense mechanisms and directly looked at my life thus far.

I was not taking care of myself. Others were using me because I was easily manipulated, and financially I lived on shaky ground. Flunking out of college was never my plan, but I recognized I always only had one goal:to escape reality in any way possible.

That day I made some choices that would change my life. I decided I would follow the rules. It took 30 years from that day to even get a speeding ticket! I would devise a plan of how I would transfer to a four-year college and continue to work, and I no longer let other’s approval dictate my every move.

I did find out who stole Pinky. But I did not want him anymore. I did not want my home to exemplify kinky sex, as this was an invitation to creepy guys to knock on my door. Who I wanted to be was my choice. The path I blazed had only just begun. I was responsible for the cause and effects of my life that materialized. And I was ready to spread my wings and fly.

Of course, I had to clean up first. But I got there. I changed, and the journey has been more magnificent than any destination I reached. That is the glory of life. And that was the beginning of 10,000 more choices to come.

Where I landed, each time, I learned more and more. My story is full, my life well-lived, and I am no longer alone, even in my own skin.